


Ratings!  Haruhi, Takashi || OHSHC

by Memento__Mori



Series: Mori Writes  /  Poetry and Plots || OHSHC [18]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Don Quixote because reasons, F/M, Feels, Hot Fluff (is that a thing?), I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Went Down With This Ship, Love, Not Canon Compliant, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Public Display of Affection, Secrets, Strawberries, Triple Drabble, Valentine's Day, but wait there's more, part of a long series, still simmering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:49:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memento__Mori/pseuds/Memento__Mori
Summary: [In which a slow simmer starts to bubble a bit. Finally!]“I’d like to request Morinozuka” said a clear, calm voice.There was none of the usual giggling, also, there was no room for doubt that Mori was being selected by himself, without Honey.While unusual, it was not unheard of, and Kyoya snapped to attention, ready to seat them.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Morinozuka Takashi
Series: Mori Writes  /  Poetry and Plots || OHSHC [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631236
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Ratings!  Haruhi, Takashi || OHSHC

**Author's Note:**

> A Ragged Anniversary - note to you
> 
> This is one hell of a community. 
> 
> Some of you have heard far more than anyone should about my life; not only that, despite your own intense situations you found time for me and this project. Your generosity of spirit leaves me at a loss.
> 
> If I overwhelmed anyone when I barged into this archive, I am sorry. **What Happened** might help explain it, but I am sorry all the same. I get enthusiastic. You delight me with your writing, and my size 12s may clamber around your comments too much. I'm dialing it back. It's just, well, you've made me happy.
> 
> If you think you hear yourself, a suggestion or a turn of phrase in this collection, you're right. Your critiques sunk in.
> 
> I'm still amazed at those of you who can write so much prose. 
> 
> Some of you have never said a word, but still show up with kudos, yes, I notice you, I even love your fun names. Thank you. 
> 
> To you nameless quiet guests, thank you for the kudos.
> 
> Counter, you are amazing-- never forget that. You are a brick, an inspiration.  
> Lady S, sorry about the floorboards, no, I'm not, you threw one as a life raft when I needed it most.
> 
> I tried to list everyone who has encouraged this (almost) finished adventure and realized the list would be longer than the work. I hope you feel the "Thank you" somehow, everyone who has come and everyone who has gone. With respect, M.

  
  


## Ratings! Haruhi, Takashi || OHSHC

“I’d like to request Morinozuka” said a clear, calm voice. There was none of the usual giggling, also, there was no room for doubt that Mori was being selected by himself, without Honey.  
  
While unusual, it was not unheard of, and Kyoya snapped to attention, ready to seat them. “Somewhere quiet?” he asked smoothly. A single nod from Haruhi was the reply.

Roses covered the club that day, their second Valentine theme had recreated the rose garden within the room. Honey had marshaled the twins and King's energy while Kyoya and Mori were indisposed. Their almost unconfined urges to meddle had been well employed, dulcetly guided by the remaining Senpai. A few cracked pots were an expected price whenever the whirlwind brothers were concerned. Flaws were turned to the wall or draped in antique lace. The troops had done well.

Their Shadow King gave one stern look around the room, glasses at full glare, before showing the couple to a secluded alcove, tucked behind hothouse pots of fragrant red roses, twining up white trellises.

That was all it took. Hosts and guests knew they were not to disturb _this_ pair, though waves of drama flowed off Tamaki, who appeared so agitated that the twins were already keeping an eye on their frantic King, just in case he exploded. The music room practically vibrated with conflict; curiosity, jealousy and jaded hope sung silently through the flowers. Two hosts? Could it possibly be?

Honey turned on his heels, ramped up the charm and bounced into action, giggling as he greeted several girls who threatened to melt of moe if not distracted soon.  
Kyoya's Cool Charm would be needed, too.  
It should be an interesting afternoon.

____________

For all his pessimism, Mori still had a song in his heart as he held the chair for the younger host-turned-guest. She was herself again, clad in the white tailcoat and red satin of their costumes that day.

“Tea?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the relaxed young woman, suddenly conscious that his shirt was still wet with Kyoya’s tears, so near his carefully controlled heart. 

Despite her resolve, his deep voice brought a blush to her face. “In a minute, thank you, Takashi,” she replied. Mori may have shifted slightly on his almost ever-steady feet. Perhaps he only felt underdressed. 

Unconsciously, she opened her jacket and straightened her tie, leaning forward and looking up. “Sit with me?” she prompted, welcoming the overcome host.

He sat.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her huge eyes searching his.   
  
____________  
  
They sat in silence.  
  
____________

“Boy, you sure do know how to keep a secret,“ she said, breaking the second awkward pause between them. She was afraid she’d made him nervous. After all she had read, it made two of them. At least she had seen nothing about their... stumble... in his work. 

“I thought you would tell Honey, and he would tell me if..."  


She stopped, and suddenly leaned across the lace tablecloth, ready, if not able, to catch the stunned man. It looked like he might fall from his chair.  
What had happened? Rather than the impassive gaze, his handsome features registered so much; shock, joy, more.  
Her inner Host was ready to call for medics, but--  
  
Takashi automatically reached for her hand and bowed his head down intimately, their roles reversed again, he _was_ the romantic host.

“Hey, are you in there? I said I was sorry, I shouldn’t have read your private writing. But I did. I had no idea you were a poet!”

“Haruhi,” was all he could manage as he captured her other small hand, steadied his elbows on the table and held both her hands reverently, cupped within his own as gently as he would hold a sparrow. Ready to free them in a heartbeat.  
____________

Just the touch of his hands thrilled her to the marrow of her bones, and points in between.  
  
His written words were not exactly easy to forget, and the secret they had kept haunted her since the waterpark.  
She blushed again, shifting in her seat, leaning closer to those delicate, strong, overwhelming fingers. 

“Did you...“ she hesitated, afraid that this long wait was already an answer, “... write about...”  
  
She paused again, unwilling to let go of a memory, one full of heat and green leaves. One that had sent her senses into overload more nights than she wanted to admit, though the slightly darker circles under her eyes were evidence enough.  
  
For a moment she could smell sunscreen and sandalwood. The charming blush glowed on her pale cheeks again, making her eyes seem brighter.

  


Only in my heart, he wanted to say.  
  
Lightheaded, he raised her hands up to his lips for the briefest of kisses. 

  
"No."  
____________

 _She had called him **Takashi**_.  
  
  
The Wild Type in him was barely contained; he had heard the other things she said; was almost afraid of what he might do.

Stealing a page from Hikaru and Kaoru’s act, Haruhi moved as if to bring her chair next to his, only to find they were of the same mind—  
she was in the air, chair and all.  
  
In a moment settled as close to him as physics would allow.  
Despite Kyoya’s warning, a section of the room heaved a great sigh, translucent hearts floating briefly through the air.  
  
“There,” he said, curled quickly around her in an exaggerated pose.  
She followed suit, cradling his face with her palm, the very picture of "Brotherly Love."  
  
“You’re a very good actor you know,“ she said. “Why don’t they use you more often? “

“Ratings.” 

“That makes no sense, you’re popular,“ she exclaimed, pressing her head against his chest in another pose stolen from the twins.

  


“Not _that_ kind of rating.“ 

  


His voice was deeper, and those eyes, his hands... were deeper, too.  
She shivered. “I see what you mean,“ she said reluctantly.  
  
Then pulled ever so softly, just slightly back from the hot embrace.  
Stylized and effective, his pose left little room between their lips, and his hand was fully on her hip— hidden by the table and stiff jacket.

“You didn’t have to feel ashamed,” Haruhi said, tempting fate.

“I didn’t ask your permission.”

“You didn’t start it, baka!” she said in exasperation, months of waiting finally breaking free.  
“And you think the innocent one is me!”  
____________

Two pairs of very different dark eyes locked for a very long time.

Their modified embrace looked like a classical statue. 

“Ratings.“

In silent agreement they slid their hands out of the intimate pose, though each felt each other burning beneath their clothes; their hands were slow and might have taken a detour or two, who could see, who can say? There was a table in the way.

____________

“You haven’t asked.“

Takashi’s face changed. Lids lowered over his eagle eyes, the faintest lopsided grin, almost a smirk, snuck up and stayed, his cheeks a little darker, head tilted to this windmill woman. 

  


Quixotically he asked her “Would you like something sweet to eat with your tea?“

  


Haruhi looked slowly, excruciatingly slowly up, taking him in, every detail of him, her eyes full of humor and hope.

  


  


_“Strawberries.”_  
____________


End file.
